Sweet Dreams
by Warfang
Summary: ...are made of these. Who am I to disagree? What happens when Izaya can't tell reality from dreams?


I do not own Durarara!

On with the story!

Izaya Orihara sat in his swivel chair, watching Mikado walk towards him. The blue eyes were focused on him, and Izaya separated his hands to rest them on his arm rests.

Mikado approached him around the desk. Then, he never broke eye contact, and removed his green and white jacket.

Izaya grinned. His grinned faltered as Mikado reached into his jacket and removed his flick blade.

Opening the knife, Mikado traced it gently along Izaya's jawbone, before repeating the motion on his own jaw. Hard enough to register, too light to draw blood.

Then he used the blade to cut away his t-shirt. Izaya registered that he was gripping his arm rests very tightly.

Mikado undid the button and fly of his pants, tugging them down further on his hips. Then he traced the cool blade over his right hip. The tip of the knife dug in.

Or iha ra  
>Izaya<p>

was carved into Mikado's hip. The blood welling up meant that the scar would be there for life. Even Shinra would have trouble getting the scars to go away.

Mikado held the knife out, and Izaya licked the blood off of it. His tongue lapped up the bitter red fluid as a cat drank cream.

Izaya began to rise from his seat, and Mikado pressed the knife to his throat. Not Izaya's throat, for he turned the blade against himself.

"Stay."

Izaya reached for him.

Ceiling.

Izaya registered that his arm was outstretched to the ceiling of his apartment and rolled over.

What was with that dream? First, Mikado brands Izaya's name into his flesh, and then orders him? And he complies with the order?

Izaya flopped back onto his back. It wasn't that he was even interested in sex. The act itself was disgusting, but understanding the motives behind it was even greater.

So why had Mikado used blood play in the dream? The sixteen year old couldn't even know what Slave and Master, Dominate or Submissive even meant!

He hung out with Kida Masaomi, but as childhood friends that hadn't seen each other in forever, well, nothing would have happened.

That, and Izaya knew it for a fact from Saki.

Rolling back over, Izaya grabbed a journal where he kept the delicious ideas to love humans even more that came to him in his sleep and scribbled down what he remembered.

-in his work place

-maintained eye contact

-Mikado removed jacket before taking my blade

-cut my name into his right hip

-let me lick the blade

-did I do anything?

Pausing in his scribbles, Izaya sat back and reflected. No, he hadn't done anything. Well, he didn't do anything that Mikado hadn't informed him to do. Perhaps this was a dream of what was to come?

Izaya closed the journal, before flipping it open to note dream and the date at the top. Then he rolled back over to sleep.

Having Mikado walk like that straight into his office just to seduce him….

Izaya snapped up from his half-asleep stupor. Seduce? Where had that come from?

Groaning, he flipped over so that his head was now at the foot of his bed. Great. His sexual urges kick in, and they include the leader of Dollars, potentially the strongest person he had ever dealt with.

He would have preferred kissing Shizu-chan in the middle of a fight to realizing that having Mikado straddle him with his flick blade and carve his name into Izaya's left hip was his personal wet dream.

"Damnit…" Izaya gripped his hair and pulled.

A phase. Just a phase. It would pass soon enough.

Six months later….

Mikado finished celebrating his seventeenth birthday at the truce between the Yellow Scarves and the Blue Squares. Once Masaomi and Aoba had seen him safely home, he opened the door to his newest apartment and walked in.

Waiting for him on his bed was Orihara Izaya, flipping a knife open and closed.

Red eyes met blue ones.

"Well, what are you here for?"  
>Izaya gave a small smile. "Something I've been waiting for."<p>

A/N: Arrgh! I can't write endings! True, originally Izaya was supposed to wake up from the dream and feel trolled by his subconscious, but… this happened. Ugh. I may just put this up to rewrite it later, thanks to how limited internet access will be shortly. Thanks for reading!


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